A Piece of Me Will Always Be With You
by lostsoul512
Summary: On the day of his young son's birthday, King Anduin Wrynn recalls the memory of one of his own birthday celebrations, and a certain dragon he will never quite forget.


**A/N: Happy birthday to my beautiful best friend, Blame the Priest xx I hope you're having an amazing day and that you enjoy this little piece I've thrown together for you. You'll always be the Anduin to my Wrathion. Lots of love, Skye. **

**Ps, I am sorry I didn't have tic tacs to go with it. **

**...**

Stormwind was most certainly living up to its name. From where he stood beside the window, jaw set and eyes narrowed, King Anduin Wrynn could see the wind rustling through the city, tugging at the branches of trees and sending the waves of the Great Sea crashing forth into the harbor. There was a darkness hanging about the city that he was trying not to read too far into, but the shadows cast about were making it hard not to take it as some great and terrible omen.

In spite of the less than temperate weather, the streets were crowded with people, _his_ people now, all eager to share in the celebrations that had been planned out for the day. He should have felt a swell of pride at this, he knew, at how beloved he was by the kingdom, at how they showed continuous support of the Wrynn bloodline after all this time, after all the choices that had been made.

Instead all he felt was a deep emptiness. It had taken up residence in his chest some time ago, had nestled its way in and made itself a home. And no matter how he tried, no matter what he did, Anduin had been unable to rid himself of it.

He knew the reason all too well, but was working very hard to push those particular thoughts away. Today was to be a day of celebration, of joy and happiness and the continued perseverance of the Alliance, of the Wrynn family itself. As if on queue, Anduin heard the soft sound of little footsteps against the cold stone floors of the Keep, and glanced back over his shoulder to see the small figure of his son standing behind him.

The prince was looking far too disheveled to be presentable, his clothes in disarray and a mischievous grin adorning his face. Anduin offered a slight smile of his own, crossing the room to kneel before the child and run his fingers through the mess of blonde curls. "Bolvar Varian Wrynn," he said, trying his best to summon a scolding tone. "Your party is set to begin within the hour, and you're nowhere near ready."

Instead of rearranging his features into a look of regret or repentance, the young prince only smiled wider. It was a contagious sort of smile, and quite possibly the only thing in all of Azeroth that had been able to chase away the apathy that had grabbed ahold of Anduin's heart. In for nothing else, he knew that he would press on for Bolvar, that he would keep fighting so that his child would never have to know how it felt to be lost and scared and alone on the throne without a father there to guide his way.

"I dont want to have a party, father," Bolvar whined, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "I'm the prince, aren't I? So I shouldn't have to if I dont want to."

Anduin chuckled gently, rising to his feet. "If only that were the case," he murmured. There was a nostalgia in the words that his son was much too young to catch, but the king himself heard it, and he felt the pang in his chest that accompanied it. "Unfortunately, more often than not, it means the exact opposite of that."

The words went over Bolvar's head, his nose scrunching up as he looked up at his father with wide, bright blue eyes. He let out a deep sigh, giving the child a gentle shove. "Run along now, and finish getting ready for the party. Your mother will have my head if we are late."

"Yes, father," the child said, bowing his head just slightly before taking off at a full run, the sound of his footsteps echoing down the halls of the Keep.

Anduin turned back to the window, to his city laid out before him. His fingers moved to the golden chain that hung around his neck, always there, but always kept out of sight under his clothes. He pulled it free now, rubbing the smooth pendant between his thumb and forefinger, the small dragon tooth that had never quite lost it's shine.

"Dammit, Wrathion, you fool," he muttered under his breath, dropping the tooth instantly, as though it had burned him. In spite of everything, in spite of all the fighting and the lying and the way it had all gone downhill so fast, there was a part of him that had always sort of thought the black dragon would be there to share in these moments, these memories. It had been childish of him to think so; he knew that now all too well. He was reminded of it every time he closed his eyes, and he pictured the way Wrathion had looked in those final moments, heard the way he had cried out his deafening roar, felt the way the blood had coated his own skin when he slayed him. And if it wasn't that, then it was a different kind of memory altogether, brushing skin and searing kisses and softly whispered words meant only for him to hear. .

He had yet to figure out which one was worse.

Swallowing hard, Anduin leaned his forehead against the cold glass of the window, focused all of his energy on breathing, in, out, steady rises and falls of his chest. His hand had once more found the chain around his neck, clutching to the tooth so tightly it threatened to slice right into his palm. He took some comfort in the distraction of the pain, and for a moment, he was able to lose himself to another memory entirely, one of the rarer ones, when things had still felt easy and there had been nothing but hope for the future.

_ten years earlier_

The sun was blindingly bright over the magnificent city of Stormwind, its light and warmth shining down to fill the streets with a golden glow. Anduin should have been enjoying it, he knew, both the weather and the massive party that had been orchestrated to celebrate his birthday. He had tried, he really had, but there was this lingering feeling that something was missing.

The prince made his way out of the Keep, cradling a tome under his arm, priding himself on only having to stop once and lean against the wall in attempt to regain control over the sharp pain in his body. At last he stood before the massive staircase, the sun smiling down upon him and his home sprawled out before him. It really was a beautiful city, if he managed to ignore the pressing weight of the knowledge that one day it would fall on him to rule over it.

He made his way to the staircase with what could only be categorized as a pout, bottom lip jutted out slightly as he sat down upon the top step and absently massaged at the muscles of his legs. Over a year had gone by since that near-fatal day, but neither the memories nor the inveterate ache had faded.

Intent on pushing those thoughts aside so as not to ruin the day, he carefully opened the cover of the book. It had been his present from his father, something he had mentioned once in passing, something he assumed would be utterly forgotten. But not only had the king remembered; he had also gone out of his way to hunt the thing down, a feat that could not have been easy. It was a gesture that meant more to Anduin than he thought Varian would ever know.

He had just started to skim the first page when he was suddenly, abruptly interrupted.

"You shouldn't pout, you know. It's unbecoming of you."

Anduin jumped at the voice that had appeared behind him, thankfully managing to regain his balance before he toppled right down the endless flight of stairs upon which he was perched. A shadow had fallen over him, and when he craned his neck to look it was easy to see why. As if he needed to look. As if he didn't recognize that voice instantly and the way that it sent shivers up his spine.

As soon as he caught a glimpse of the crimson eyes and the devilish, condescending smirk, Anduin turned his head away, fixing his gaze on the Cathedral in the distance where it rose up above all else like a beacon of hope. "You shouldnt be here, Wrathion," he muttered under his breath. "You arent welcome here and you know it. My father-"

"Yes, yes," Wrathion snapped hurriedly, cutting him off. "Your father would love nothing more than to hang my skull right alongside my sister's. I understand."

Anduin felt his hands clench into fists, nails pressing into his palms. "And yet here you are," he retorted. This was the last thing he felt like dealing with at the moment, at his birthday party, with all manner of important Alliance officials only a few dozen yards away. Still, when Wrathion plopped down at his side, close enough to touch but far enough to ensure they were most certainly not touching, Anduin knew that he didn't really have a say in the matter. The Black Prince was nothing if not stubborn.

And so instead of trying to shy away from him, which may have been the better option, he found himself angling _towards_ the dragon, something close to a scowl tugging at his features. He had never been known to lose his patience or his composure, but something about Wrathion just really got to him. "Alright, fine," he huffed. "You want to talk? Then let's talk. You can start by explaining why you helped Hellscream, and- and punched me in the face. That really hurt, you know." And not just physically, not that he was going to say that aloud. He got the feeling he didn't need to anyway. Wrathion knew. Wrathion always knew.

Wrathion lifted a dark brow in a perfect arch, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. "Are you quite finished?" He asked. A single question, and Anduin was once more reduced to nothing but a child throwing a tantrum. He honestly contemplated stamping his foot, but worried the reverberations might aggravate his leg.

Ultimately, the most he did was cross his arms over his chest and return to scanning the book in his lap. Wrathion decided that this was the best he was going to get, and that considering he _had_ in fact done both of those things, it was in his best interest to take what he could get.

When the silence had stretched on for far too long, the black dragon leaned forward, elbows on his knees, trying to catch a glimpse of the book Anduin read. The blonde tried his best to ignore him, but he had never been very good at ignoring people he cared about, and as much as he hated to admit it, he did still care about him, so he closed the cover and held the book in a way that Wrathion could better see.

"The Restorative Powers of the Light," Wrathion read aloud, scrunching his nose up. "That sounds utterly dull."

Anduin clutched the book against his chest, his scowl returning to his face. "If you've come all this way to insult me-"

"No, I haven't," Wrathion interrupted, holding up a hand. There was a softness in his crimson eyes that hadn't been there before, a hesitation. Not quite a fear, for the dragon was never afraid of anything. At least, he tried to tell himself he wasn't, but deep down he knew that he was scared of this, that he had always been scared of this. He was scared of what Anduin could do to him, the feelings he evoked in him, because they were not something that Wrathion could control or manipulate. He was scared of losing Anduin too, even though it was looking like he had done a pretty decent job of sealing that deal for himself.

Anduin's tongue darted out to moisten his lips, suddenly feeling far too dry. His blue eyes were searching for something; he wasn't sure what, or if he would ever find it, but he just kept looking anyway. "Okay," he said quietly, swallowing hard. "Then what do you want?" What he was really asking was, what could have possibly been so important that he would actually risk coming here?

Wrathion flashed another smile, but it lacked the cunning edge it had held before. It was gentler, more reserved, and therefore almost more intimidating. Anduin held his breath as he watched the dragon slip his hand into a pocket and remove it again, this time clearly holding something in his closed fist. "I came to bring you your birthday present," he admitted.

Anduin felt as though his heart might burst, so strong was the surge of emotion he felt. "You...you came here just for...just to…" He stammered out, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. His heart was thudding loudly in his chest, stomach in knots, eyes wider than they had ever been in all his life.

And all at once, none of it mattered anymore. Maybe they couldn't change what had happened, and maybe Anduin wasn't exactly _okay_ with it, but that didn't mean they couldn't work through it, if only they would both set aside their prides for a few moments. Because at the end of the day, he loved him, he loved him so much he could hardly stand it, and that wasn't changing.

Pausing only to set aside his book so as not to let anything happen to it, Anduin launched himself at Wrathion, wrapping his arms around the dragon's torso and burying his face in his chest. After only a moment, Wrathion enclosed his own arms around the smaller prince, absently moving his fingers through his hair. "You dont even know what it is yet," he reminded the human with a short, quiet laugh. "What if you hate it?"

Anduin pulled back enough to look up through his pale lashes, giving an exaggerated eye roll. "Let me see it then," he urged.

Surprisingly, Wrathion actually did obey, unfurling his taloned fingers. Curled up in his palm was a simple silver chain, and fastened to it was a single white tooth.

The blonde sucked in a greedy breath, his lungs swelling with air. Very slowly, carefully, he reached out to run the tip of his index finger over the smooth surface and sharp edges. "Is it…"

"Yes," Wrathion interjected, cutting him off for the third time in the few moments they had been together. "It's mine. Turns out I'm losing my baby teeth."

Anduin grinned widely at him, lifting a hand to cup Wrathion's cheek, his thumb moving back and forth in easy motions. "It's perfect," he said happily. "I love it."

Wrathion tilted his head into the touch, his eyes falling shut for a few seconds. When he opened them again, they were blazing brighter than before, burning holes straight into the human. "And I love you," he murmured lowly. "And now, no matter what happens, you'll always have a piece of me with you."

Anduin opened his mouth to try and speak, but the most he seemed able to get out was a strangled sort of moan, one that was swallowed up instantly when the young dragon leaned in suddenly and stole a kiss from the corner of his mouth. It was short and sweet, but it was enough for now. Things may not have been completely fixed between them, and Anduin did still have every intention of getting some answers out of him regarding what had happened at the trial, but for the time being, it all felt alright.

"Will you put it on me?" Anduin asked, a hint of giddiness in his voice. Now it was Wrathion's turn to roll his eyes, but it didn't stop him from lifting the delicate chain and fastening it around Anduin's neck. Once it was in place, the human lifted it between two fingers and held onto it tightly. It would serve as a constant reminder of Wrathion's presence, even when they couldn't be together, when the rest of the world was trying to stand between them. It was absolutely perfect.

They stayed like that for a while longer, holding hands and leaning into each other's sides, occasionally making small talk but mostly just enjoying being near each other, drawing strength from each other as they had always done. In that moment, Anduin felt that they could stay like that always, and he would be completely, utterly okay with that.

Of course, that wasn't realistic. After what was probably far too long, he sighed, dropping Wrathion's hand rising to his feet. "I have to get back inside," he groaned. But his expression shifted to a mischievous sort of grin, as he stared down at the dark haired prince. "I'll leave my window open tonight. You can come and give me the second half of my present."

Wrathion scoffed, pushing himself up and straightening out his clothes. But there was a gleam in his eyes that was unmistakable. "Alright," he said, giving a slight dip of his chin. "I will be there. I promise."

Maybe he shouldn't have, maybe he was reading too far into it, but it felt like he was promising much more than just that one night, and Anduin completely, utterly believed him.

_xxx_

"Anduin?" A delicate voice called out to him, and a moment later the king of Stormwind felt a hand brush against his shoulder. He glanced back with a start, his blue eyes falling upon the redheaded woman standing at his side. She was smiling, but it was the kind of smile that was laced with concern. "Is everything alright?"

The blonde mustered up a smile of his own, taking his wife by the hand and pulling her in against his chest. He brushed his lips against her forehead in a gentle kiss, felt her fingers bunching up into his shirt. "Everything is fine, love," he assured her. His fingers moved to his throat, assuring that the dragon tooth pendant was safely tucked away, close to his heart where it belonged. "It's nothing." She didn't look convinced, but she didn't press the subject. Anduin linked his arm in hers and led her out of the room, towards the party.

In spite of everything, Anduin felt much better than he had been feeling earlier. Wrathion may have been gone now, but he would always have those memories to cling to whenever he missed him terribly. And he had the chain around his neck too, a constant reminder that no matter how many promises had been broken, this one remained. A part of Wrathion would always, always be with him.


End file.
